Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
I am walking home, and a lady halts me in the street. She carries some playful queries, meant to be pondered by me. She states, "Which superpower would you possess?" And I smile, crookedly, For my soul has walked this passage a hundred times. So my heart urges me to voice my soul, declare to this realm: I would wish to transform into a tree, deep in a shadowed forest where no man could find me, where i would be alive enough to breathe, Yet not enough to hurt. Where my branches wouldn't be cut, unknowingly by these mortals, and the fall of my leaves would be beautiful, never forced to be hidden by the ways of the world. Where the cracks in my wood are justified by storms and thunder, And my wounded bark is free to be fragile beneath the watching wind and verdure. Where I am not obliged to stay green where I could rot away, as I wish to be where I could find some peace, And I am keenly aware, of my soul's longing to have this, "Superpower," as you mortals have named it Yet I pause, and gracefully answer the lady waiting: "I would want to fly—anywhere, anytime." And I walk away, while the lady's voice fades As my mind’s chamber silences my heart, my voice is buried beneath reason, and my longing to be a tree remains hidden among the unwritten laws of mortals.
0
Apr 2
Apr 2, 2026 at 11:35 AM UTC
The tree I could be..
I am walking home, and a lady halts me in the street. She carries some playful queries, meant to be pondered by me. She states, "Which superpower would you possess?" And I smile, crookedly, For my soul has walked this passage a hundred times. So my heart urges me to voice my soul, declare to this realm: I would wish to transform into a tree, deep in a shadowed forest where no man could find me, where i would be alive enough to breathe, Yet not enough to hurt. Where my branches wouldn't be cut, unknowingly by these mortals, and the fall of my leaves would be beautiful, never forced to be hidden by the ways of the world. Where the cracks in my wood are justified by storms and thunder, And my wounded bark is free to be fragile beneath the watching wind and verdure. Where I am not obliged to stay green where I could rot away, as I wish to be where I could find some peace, And I am keenly aware, of my soul's longing to have this, "Superpower," as you mortals have named it Yet I pause, and gracefully answer the lady waiting: "I would want to fly—anywhere, anytime." And I walk away, while the lady's voice fades As my mind’s chamber silences my heart, my voice is buried beneath reason, and my longing to be a tree remains hidden among the unwritten laws of mortals.
queiro-bits
Written by
18/F/Kathmandu, Nepal
Apr 2
Apr 2, 2026 at 11:35 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem